Glasses and Sweatshirts
by A M3mb3r123
Summary: Keith always does the same thing each morning, but this morning his eyesight fails him and he'll never live it down.


Keith didn't even think about it. He'd never thought about, really. Every morning he woke up, stumbled towards the dresser in his boxers, and put on the first shirt he could find. He'd done that for probably his whole life. Of course, it was never an issue until this morning.

You see, spending three to four-ish years in space takes a toll on a person. With Keith, it manifested in his eyesight and he now had to wear bifocals. Bifocals! In his early twenties!

(Keith had brought up this point with Pidge, but they reminded him that they got bifocals at age ten, so Pidge had absolutely no sympathy for him.)

But, apparently staring into the swirling vortex of space, living in a castle with lights that can only be explained as florescent, and sleep deprivation all have an adverse effect on the functionability of one's eyesight. Who'd'a thunk?

It's not that Keith didn't want glasses. He knew that he needed them to see and secretly liked the way the thin black frames made his eyes pop ever-so slightly. They were just an added hassle that he literally had no time what-so-ever to try to want to deal with, nope, nada, no way.

The biggest change was trying to explain to Krolia and the other Marmorians that human, yes, even half-humans, do not have perfect eyesight throughout their entire lives. His suit had to be modified, which Pidge obviously helped with, so that he didn't have to wear the glasses underneath.

The next biggest change was being called a "hipster" by Lance. Lance McClain, who shopped at Whole Foods, was completely vegan, and rose with the sun to breathe in the clean air, called Keith a hipster. So maybe Keith enjoyed putting his hair in a bun and maybe with the glasses it kind of sort of looked like a stereotypical hipster from 2016.

Despite the—near constant—teasing, Keith refused to cut his hair or get contacts. For one, bifocals as contacts with fucking hell and you could quote him on that, thank you very much. And he hated haircuts, period.

Keith had learned to tune the fun-poking out and, admittedly, it was kind of cute when Lance did it. However, he was still very susceptible to embarrassment when the teasing was on a different subject and this morning, it definitely was. Keith had woken up and stumbled to grab a shirt as usual. He put his hair up and grabbed his glasses before walking out of the bedroom, eyes still half closed and heavy with sleep.

"G'morning mi vida, how'd you sleep?" Lance was up early as usual, already making breakfast with some sort of egg replacement. But it was when Lance looked up that Keith's morning simultaneously began and ended.

"Since when do you wear something that isn't red or black?" The grin on Lance's face grew as he took in the baby blue hoodie Keith was wearing, string tied into little flower knots. Keith actually opened his eyes and adjusted his glasses so he could see out of right lens and . . . fuck.

"I didn't know we were sharing clothes now," Lance tore his eyes away from his boyfriend to check on the skillet, but the grin was still on his face.

"Fuck, I'm already normal-blind, now I'm colorblind too," Keith slid onto the barstool at the counter and immediately folded into the countertop and Lance laughed. They fell into comfortable silence as Keith realized that he actually really liked this hoodie. It was soft, but not too soft and was worn in all the right places. An added bonus? It smelled like Lance, like when you take a walk in the evening and can smell laundry detergent coming from people's houses. Like when the sun is setting in summer and the cooler night air is finally coming out.

He didn't look up until Lance set a plate of not-eggs and fruit in front of him.

"For the record, you look fucking hot in that. Really completes your whole aesthetic." Lance flicked a hand towel over his shoulder like a waitress in a 1950s diner and leaned over the counter to come face to face with Keith.

"My aesthetic is not baby blue," Keith raised his eyebrows, but his face was pink with embarrassment. "Don't worry, you'll get this back as soon as some coffee actually does its job."

"Naw," Lance kissed the top of Keith's head before turning to the coffee machine. "I think you should keep it." This confused Keith a little. Lance had always been pretty protective of his stuff, even if they were dating. And he knew Lance loved his hoodies.

"No really, it's yours." Lance seemed to mull Keith's statement over in his head as the coffee mug filled.

"Nope, not anymore," he turned back to Keith with the mug and a carton of almond milk. "First, as I have mentioned, you look fucking hot." Lance pulled a barstool up so he was sitting across from Keith. "But on a serious note, we've been dating for over a year. What's mine is yours." Lance lazily intertwined their fingers.

"It is comfortable," Keith picked at his eggs and squoze Lance's hand. "But I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" He raised is eyebrows again with a smirk on his face.

"I've already texted Pidge," Lance's smile threatened to leave his face and Keith groaned. Lance was the one to laugh first, Keith's groan turning into a sound that could almost be interpreted as a laugh. The boyfriend's shared a kiss and settled into the morning. Keith kept the hoodie, but made Lance wear it every once and a while, just so it would smell like him. And he never did hear the end of it.

**A/N **Hey y'all! Here's my take on the sharing clothes troupe, but with a cute twist. I, for one, can totally see myself in Keith's position. I tried to experiment a little with the narrator and some congunctions because, as y'all can probably tell, I love a good congunction.

Anyway, please let me know what y'all thought! Hopefully more (and longer) fluff to come soon.  
-Mem


End file.
